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A Wisp of a Girl

June 16, 2011 by Kelli

I see her clearly – a wisp of a girl. Thirteen. Awkward. All knees and elbows, teetering between innocence and angst. She is loved well, but a certain enemy awaits. She doesn’t know it and isn’t prepared for it. And she falls.

“You’re fat,” someone says to her. The wisp of a girl, without an ounce of fat on her body, laughs. Then she wonders.

I see her clearly – a wisp of a girl. She’s looking at a magazine and for the first time notices shape. Long, tall, thin. Is that perfection? She studies the mirror and her eyes cloud. She knows the Truth. She’s heard it a lot.

Fearfully.

Wonderfully.

Image.

God.

Made.

Like the whisper of wind through tall grasses, these words float across her heart. But this time, another wind, less gentle, rough like that of a tornado tears through her.

Ugly.

Fat.

Not perfect.

And she believes it, the wisp of a girl.

I see her very clearly – a wisp of a girl. She is older now, having grown through the awkwardness that defines junior high. She is beautiful, but she doesn’t think so. Though she has been loved well, there are misguided comments from those who just don’t know better. The hormonal teenage boy whose image of perfection is more skewed that her own. “You’re not super skinny,” he says, and he’s right. The wisp of a girl has developed a muscular physique – strong, lean…she’s not the waif that defined beauty in her generation.

The wisp of a girl also replays the voice of her coach over and over, like a broken record. “You sound like a cow when you run.” It was a comment made in passing – lighthearted and teasing. But despite all that she knows to be true:

Fearfully.

Wonderfully.

Image.

God.

Made.

She believes the other voices – the louder voices. Not perfect. Not skinny. Cow.

I see her, the wisp of a girl. She is allowing herself to be defined by the louder voices now. The sound of the wind in the grasses is almost totally snuffed out. In it she hears words like disordered and dangerous. The wisp of a girl is getting lost. Does she hide this shame or wear it as a badge for attention? She doesn’t know. If she advertises, someone might take the shame away from her. So she tries to keep it hidden. But she’s never been good at keeping secrets and before long the wisp of a girl is in a counselor’s office. Tears. Shame. Frustration.

The wisp of a girl.

I see her now, the wisp of a girl. She’s away from home, away from accountability, away. College. In the quiet of night, the tornado rips through her mind and her heart and she can’t seem to shake the destruction it causes. She’s gotten better at hiding it, this wisp of a girl. But the devil isn’t gone completely. He’s still there, waiting. Comparing. And the wisp of a girl, still small, wants only to be smaller still.

This wisp of a girl is so loved, so poured into, that a new beast begins to take over. Guilt. Now more than ever, she knows the Truth.

Fearfully.

Wonderfully.

Image.

God.

Made.

She knows this, and she believes it. But…

I see her now, the wisp of a girl who’s grown into a woman. She’s in a white dress and standing at the end of the aisle is a man who loves her completely. He loves her perfectly. He thinks she is beautiful – fearfully, wonderfully beautiful. Perfect. And she knows it, but she doubts. She doesn’t know why, but she still doubts. The tornado is strong still. And the inner torment brings even greater shame.

Until…

The wisp of a girl cries out to Jesus. It’s not the first time she’s done so, but it’s the first time she’s felt total and complete surrender and, for the first time, the tender whispers drown out the tornado of lies. In one brief moment, the girl is healed.

Miraculous.

Sometimes I still see her, that wisp of a girl. I stand before the mirror and look closely and the tornado winds swirl. I’m not who she was, but she is who I am today. The doubts like to surface every once in awhile, reminding me of the wisp of a girl who was so innocent, so naive, so fooled. But the healing experienced that day years ago is the constant that keeps me going. The whispers are louder and greater and Truth reigns leaving me to rest in healing.

I watch her now, my wisp of a girl. Innocent, beautiful, lovely and perfect. In the stillness of the night, I whisper prayers over her, for her. In the silent black, I whisper my prayers like the wind across tall grasses, a hedge of protection that I hope keeps the voices of dissent away from her heart. Protection. Love. Truth.

Fearfully.

Wonderfully.

God.

Image.

Made.

These are the things I want my wisp of a girl to know and embrace.

Filed Under: faith, Motherhood Tagged With: faith, Motherhood

Living Life: Practicality vs. Wisdom

June 14, 2011 by Kelli

There’s a certain thing that happens when you become a parent. It happens in different degrees and forms for everyone, but we all experience this phenomena:

We become practical.

It’s just natural for a certain amount of practicality to set in once that bundle of joy lands on your doorstep. Suddenly life takes on a whole new meaning. That money you used to spend on late night Sonic runs now gets applied to diapers or formula or a set of plastic keys for your little one to rattle. And you forget what it was like to dash out for a snack at 11:00 at night anyway because, you know, practically speaking it’s not wise to leave the baby home unattended.

Practicality.

Where life was once an adventure, now you have to think about jobs and income and houses and schools. You have to consider how your decisions will affect not only yourself or your spouse, but also your child or children.

Practicality.

Some people are very good at remaining spontaneous, even with children in tow. Have you heard about the family that is driving around the world, living nomadically, raising their children on the road? They’ve been on the road for 11 years, all four of their children born in a different country. I don’t desire that life, but I envy their courage. What they’re doing isn’t practical, but it’s pretty dang cool.

Or this family, whom Lee met recently on an airplane. After adopting a little girl from China, they felt a strong prompting from the Lord to return to their daughter’s birth country and open up an orphanage for special needs children. So they went. They packed up their three young children, sold all their possessions and went.

“What organization did you go with?” Lee asked.

“No one,” came the astonishing reply. “We just asked the Lord to provide and He has.” Through charitable donations, they have raised enough to build a five story building where they currently house 34 children with various special needs from cleft palates to cerebral palsey. And they’ve never asked for a cent.

That’s not practical. But it’s pretty dang spectacular.

I used to fancy myself a bit of an adventurer. I didn’t think twice about hopping on a plane as a 20 year old and exploring the former Soviet Union on my own. I didn’t flinch when I spent 36 hours on a train to Prague by myself, half the time trapped with a horny Iraqi German (I know…). I relished walking the streets of London by myself.

When Lee and I went to Europe last year, I once again found my adventurous roots. I loved not having a plan, living in the moment, exploring, living.

But I’ve felt trapped in practicality for awhile. This isn’t a bad thing, in some regards. Obviously parenthood requires a certain amount of practicality. We have to provide for our children. We have to give them stability and they do need a certain amount of material possessions to feel secure. Of course, our Western world children (as I’m sure yours as well) have far more than they need for security and stability, but as a parent I want to give them good things. Just as I know the Lord wants to give me good things.

But I’m a little tired of feeling held back by practicality. Because there’s a very fine line between practicality and fear. And I think that sometimes?

I blur that line.

I’m not going to act on passion because I tell myself it wouldn’t be practical for my family. But really, I’m just too scared to try it. I’m not going to follow a dream because it would be terribly impractical to do so. ‘Fraidy Cat! As a couple, Lee and I always talk about all the cool things that we’d like to do with the kids and expose them to, but most of them seem too lofty and impractical to really pursue.

We’re scared.

What will people think? What if it takes us out of our comfort zone? What if we fail? What if it requires us to leave all that we know? Where is the practicality in that?

Here’s the thing: I don’t think God calls us to be practical. I think He calls us to be wise. We are not to live in fear. “Do not fear, for I am with you; Do not anxiously look about you for I am your God.” Isaiah 41:10. We are called to wisdom, not practicality. Men are called to provide for their families, and that will look differently for everyone. For some, that means a stable job in a good home where they can minister to, and meet the needs of, those in their local community. For others still, that means selling all you have and leaving.

One of those scenarios is practical, one is not. But for the two men who are guiding and leading their families according to God’s calling placed in their hearts – both are wise.

Does that make sense?

So Lee and I together are working on, and learning, to let go of the shackles of practicality.

Walk in faith.

Live in wisdom.

Cry out to Jesus.

Do not be afraid.

That last one’s a doozy.

Filed Under: faith, Family, Lee, Motherhood Tagged With: faith, living by faith, Motherhood, practicality

The one where I can’t move my neck

June 9, 2011 by Kelli

I never fancied myself much of a worrier. In general I don’t get too worked up over things. I may have a brief moment or so, when worry starts to overtake me, but I don’t usually dwell on it and, therefore, haven’t had to suffer many side effects of worrying.

Until recently, when cicadas began falling from the sky in droves and we got a contract on our house.

This process of moving out of our house has proven to be more stressful than I thought. I didn’t realize I was stressing out about it until the last few days when my stomach tied itself in a knot and my head began to pound. Yesterday, my neck began tightening up. I believe it happened sometime during my conversation with a storage facility. We are beyond blessed to have been able to sell our house for almost what we asked for it. But…

We don’t have another house to go to as of now. So we’re storing our stuff and staying at my parents apartment until we figured some things out. Another huge blessing! So I don’t know why my body is shutting down on me. My brain is fried, my neck literally will not turn and despite being wickedly tired I cannot sleep as I think of all the things I need to do during this rather bumpy transition.

What do we do with the dog?

What do I do about the mail?

You mean we need a new furnace?

How much will it cost to move twice?

Where do we store the piano?

You mean we need a new roof?

On top of those questions, I am also beginning to mourn leaving this house. I am a sap – a sentimental, emotional sap. Those who know me well know that, while I love a good adventure, change has never been my strong suit. This house is our first house. It’s the place we brought all our babies home to. It’s where first steps, first words and a mountain of other firsts occurred.

It’s home.

This neighborhood is wonderful. There are kids galore, all of whom are my children’s ages. I think of the little girl next door who taps on our back door every day to play. Sometimes (or a lot of times) it annoyed me, but she and Tia are the exact same age and I’m sad that they will no longer have each other as instant playmates.

I’m just kind of sad. And stressed out.

I know that this too shall pass. This flux of not knowing what comes next will be short lived. I’m not worried about the future. I know we’ll find a new house to make memories in and a new neighborhood with friends to meet. But it’s the interim that has, apparently, seized the muscles in my neck and chosen not to let go.

So on we go, marching forward to June 30 when we will say goodbye to the place where we became a family of five. What does God have next? We simply don’t know. I hope, for my sake, His plan includes some muscle relaxers and a massage…

And now, random pictures that have nothing to do with this post, but I just got some great shots yesterday and want to post them.

Filed Under: Life Tagged With: faith, Kids, moving, stress, worry

Compassion Bloggers in Philippines

May 31, 2011 by Kelli

A few years ago I started reading about a ministry called Compassion International. And I dismissed it.

I had seen the ads on television for child sponsorship programs before. You know, the ones with a tearful celebrity begging you to give up one cup of coffee every day so a child could eat. Not that I don’t think those programs are wonderful, but I was just desensitized to the weepy pitch. So when blog post after blog post began popping up about Compassion, my first reaction was to ignore them.

I hate jumping on bandwagons and this seemed like an online Christian bandwagon. I’m revealing a bit of evidence of my sad, stubborn little heart to you all today…

After the Compassion bloggers went to India, though, I began to take notice of this organization a little more. I was impressed by several things -first, Compassion is serious about meeting the needs of children. Sponsorship money goes to the child and is used honestly and wisely and lovingly to make sure that children living in poverty are given hope for the future.

Second, the hearts behind those involved with Compassion are so humble, tender and filled with love. Compassion has a purpose to “release children from poverty in Jesus’ name.” They take this purpose seriously and it really made an impression on me.

Finally, I couldn’t help but be impressed by how well this ministry utilized social media for the greater good of humanity. I’m not sure you’ll find another organization that is better utilizing social media tools like Twitter, Facebook and blogging to bring hope, healing, faith and love to the most remote areas of the world. I’m seriously amazed by what they do.

So, I finally got over my silly pride and we sponsored a child from the Philippines named Jonri, and what a blessing it has been. The kids LOVE to get letters from Jonri and to draw pictures in return. Admittedly we have not done a good job of consistently writing him and we are working on communicating with him more. But it has blessed our family to know that Jonri is being loved and cared for and he is definately prayed for.

This week, Compassion has another group of lovely bloggers touring none other than the Philippines and the stories coming out of the country are beautiful and moving. You will be blessed to follow their journey. And if you feel led to sponsor a child, you can rest assured your money is not squandered or wasted. It is well spent and you will be impacting a child’s life forever.

That’s a bandwagon that’s totally worth jumping on, in my opinion.

Filed Under: Compassion International, faith, Ministry Tagged With: child sponsorship, compassion bloggers in philippines, compassion international, faith, Ministry

Ulyana

May 23, 2011 by Kelli

We met eight years ago. Both of us young, married and in love with the world. She was my translator and for one month she acted as my guide. I was on a grand adventure. I was touring the country of Ukraine, interviewing veterans of the great war, World War II. I was five months pregnant and became ill almost the second I set foot in the country. And she made sure that I was well taken care of as we traveled.

We took trains and taxi’s, my pregnant belly bouncing all over the pitted roads, me hanging on for dear life becuase the taxi driver’s seat belts were broken.

“He wants you to trust him,” she said. I heard the sympathy in her voice. She knew I was uncomfortable. Over the course of our adventure, Sveta and I bonded. My mom was with us and the three of us became fast friends – family. Separated by an ocean, but filled with trust and love for one another.

Sveta and her husband, Vova, were fairly newlywed and were devastatingly cute. They were, and still are, madly in love and it just made me smile to see them together. They were mushy and gushy, but not in an uncomfortable way. They just made you happy.

One of the stops on our trip was to Sveta’s hometown of Dunaivtsi. We spent two days with her family, her Mom and Dad fussing over me and making sure I was well fed and taken care of. I ate her Mom’s green borscht and it was, quite possibly, the most wonderful meal I’ve ever eaten. Ever.

Sveta and I laughed a lot on that trip. Her sense of humor was so keen and her English so sharp that she was easily able to keep up with my random wit. We visited fortresses and classrooms. We spent time in colleges and she stood by my side as a group of veteran soldiers poured out their hearts, and their memories, to me in vivid detail.

Sveta became more than a friend. She became a sister.

And for eight years, Sveta and I have remained the dearest of friends. We’ve rejoiced in children born and mourned pregnancies lost. Her first born, Ulyana (Ulya) and Landon are just days apart. I’ve watche dSveta, through her blog, as she’s grown into such a wonderful, beautiful, lovely mother. She is expecting her second child now and I’m just so proud of her and excited for her.

But tomorrow Sveta and Vova need your prayers. Ulya was born with specific health challenges that have brought them to a point of needing surgical intervention. The surgery is tomorrow and it’s dangerous and meticulous and difficult. No parent ever wants to see their child suffer pain or discomfort. It’s stressful and frightening.

Would you please pray for Sveta, Vova and Ulya tonight and tomorrow?

Pray for peace as Sveta and Vova wait. They are currently in Kiev, where the surgery will take place and they will remain there as Ulya recovers. Pray for Sveta in particular as she is dealing with major stress while pregnant. Pray for her safety and for the safety of her unborn child.

Please pray for the doctors as they work on Ulya, a sweet little girl with a vibrant personality. Pray that they have wisdom and special skill. Pray for protection over her little body. Pray for Ulyana’s bones, that they would be strong and that her body would be able to withstand the procedure. Pray that this surgery would only enhance her life.

Sveta and Vova have been on my heart for some time now as they prepared for this day. They have been concerned and frightened, as any parents would be. It just felt right to share this prayer need with you all and I’m thankful because I know that you all will lift them up.

Svetochka, I love you and I, along with many others, will be praying for you, Vova and Ulyana tomorrow!

Thank you, everyone, for supporting a sister in need! I appreciate it more than I know how to express.

Filed Under: faith, Family, Random, Russian Tagged With: faith, FRIENDS, prayer, surgery, Ukraine

On Jeremiah and being a Disney Princess

May 19, 2011 by Kelli

“What do you want me to do?!”

Alligator tears roll down her soft cheeks, her blue eyes swimming with a mixture of frustration and sorrow.

“I want you to obey.”

“I don’t know how to obey!” she wailed, flinging herself down on the floor in fantastic Disney Princess fashion.

“But if you listen to me, you will hear exactly what you need to do to obey and when you obey me, things will go well with you.”

Oh the mournful sobs. Being five is hard. It’s hard, people!

Being 32 is hard too.

I have my own Disney Princess moments where I fling myself onto my bed, dramatically sighing with such force that the air pressure of the room changes. I bemoan how difficult it is to obey, how I don’t waaaannnna do this or I’m not goooonnnaa do that. Sometimes I cry, other times I pout. Sometimes…sshhh…I toss out a few four letter words for good effect.

All in private, of course. Wouldn’t want anyone to know I do that, you know?

Today I received a phone call as I was just on the cusp of a full blown Disney Princess moment. I was working up to it. It was slowly simmering and boiling and I was ready for a full out drama fest. Hand on the forehead, fist clutched to my chest, “Oh my,” flop to the floor in a heap of hefty sobs.

And then the phone rang. And a friend shared Jeremiah 42-43 with me. You know the passage, right? You don’t? I didn’t either. The Isrealites go to Jeremiah and ask him to pray to God on their behalf. They want to flee from Babylon to Egypt and they want God’s confirmation. So Jeremiah does what they ask and he comes back with the Lord’s answer.

“Don’t go. Stay here and I will bless you. I will show you compassion and favor. Don’t be afraid. Trust me.”

Ah, but they didn’t like that answer, you see. Because they had already purposed in their hearts to go. They weren’t really looking for God’s answer – they just wanted a little justification for their actions. And in the end, they chose to go their own way. The way that seemed easier to them. Because staying in Babylon? That was too scary, too hard. No. Going to Egypt felt right…it felt better.

Things didn’t go well with them.

We are constantly drilling Ephesians 6:1-3 into our children’s heads: “Children obey your parents in the Lord for this is right. Honor your father and mother (which is the first commandment with a promise) so that it may be well with you, and that you may live long on the Earth.”

They hear that a lot. So much so that I can guarantee when they are all young adults, they will probably sit around the dinner table and make fun of us for it, rolling their eyes and laughing. Hopefully in a good-natured way, of course. I can see it in my head, like a movie reel.

“Hey, remember when Mom and Dad used to tell us to obey them so it things would go well with us?”

“Aaaaww, yeah, that drove me nuts.”

Then they laugh and all take turns telling us every reason why they love us and why they’re thankful for our constant discipline as they grew up. They tell us how right we were and laud us for pouring so much of ourselves into them in their formative years. They do this while giving us each back massages and presenting us with lavish gifts because they are just so thankful for their upbringing.

This vision of mine may have spiraled slightly into the realm of fantasy, but whatever – I like it.

No matter what your age, obedience is hard. And it’s not always fun. Just because Tia feels ready to ride her two wheeler to the park a mile down the road, doesn’t mean she should do it. When I tell her no, she needs to obey even if she doesn’t want to. When Sloan wants to play with the boys down the street and I tell him no because I’m not sure who their parents are, he has to obey, even though he doesn’t understand.

“Things will go well with you if you obey.”

Sometimes that’s the only excuse I can give.

And sometimes it’s the only excuse I get. Some decisions seem scary and hard and big and…

It would be so much easier to just move in the direction that feels good enough. The one that’s easy. But the hard decision, the one you feel in your heart is right even if it’s scary, sometimes that’s the safest place to be. And there’s no sense throwing a Disney sized fit about it. Trust and obey and things will go well with you. This is where freedom sets in.

And that’s a good thing because the drama filled life of a Disney Princess gets exhausting. Who wants to be stuck wearing ball gowns and glass slippers all the time, right?

To the friend who gave me that timely phone call today…I thank you from the bottom of my heart for pointing me to this scripture. If I could sing you a Disneyesque song in true Princess fashion, I so totally would.

Filed Under: faith Tagged With: Disney Princesses, faith, Jeremiah 42-43, scripture, thoughts

On the wings of love

May 9, 2011 by Kelli

Before we get started, I’d like to give you a moment to let the cheesy ’80’s ballad wash over you. Go on, sing it out. You know you want to…

…

Feel better?’

Great.

There is no great way to transition from obscure ’80’s music to prayer, but I’m gonna give it a try. Consider yourselves transitioned.

Once upon a time I was an early riser. While the rest of my generation slept until noon, I could often be found at sunrise jogging through the streets of my neighborhood. This was pre-baby when I still enjoyed jogging and my body moved in a more coordinated rhythm to make it possible, of course.

In college, I spent many an early morning watching the sunrise as I crammed knowledge into my over-functioning brain. In early motherhood, when it was me and one tiny baby, I watched the sunrise as I whispered prayers into his ear. I prayed he would grow into a man of character, a man of grace, a man of stature and wisdom and knowledge. I prayed that he would be strong and courageous, filled with love and a desire to help those in need.

But something happened to me in the seven years since I three times became mom. I lost my sense of wonder at the morning. My bed grew warmer and more comfortable. My children pitter pattered their way through the house at such an hour that in order to beat them up I really needed to rise while it was still night, just so I could welcome the morning.

With this unfortunate phenomena, I also lost my ability to passionately cry out on their behalf. My prayers for them became kernels of popcorn, popped up here and there throughout the day and rarely scratched the surface of my true desires for them.

“Help him understand love.” “Give her the courage to fail.” “Show him who You are.”

Generic.

A series of issues has brought me to a place of longing once again. Longing for the morning. The smell of life rising. The glint of dew on green grass and the painted reds, oranges and yellows stretched across the sky. Of darkness fading into morning light. Of fatigue mixed together with anticipation, staving off the sleep that still lingers. Longing stillness enough to hear.

To hear the wind blow. To hear the birds sing. To hear the Voice, still and small, waiting on the wings of love for my heart’s cry.

(How’s that for blending the ’80’s with prayer, eh?)

And my prayers are rising once again. A new song, a new desire, a new longing. I lay them down and wait. Sometimes I fall asleep in the pool of desire and heartache that I’ve only just surrendered. Sometimes I wait and listen.

For Sloan I pray Hebrews 10:19-24. May he be free from the guilt that so often weighs him down and pulls him back, his tender heart torn over sin, yet wrestling with the flesh. I pray Galations 5:22-23 and 1 Peter 1:5-6: self-control to make the right choices. I pray for wisdom in mothering such a strong willed, lion hearted child. I offer praise for being chosen for a clearly difficult task.

For Katya I pray 2 Timothy 2:10, that her heart would be turned toward the Savior and she would desire to know Him. I pray Colossians 3:12, that she would be free from the apathy that her spirit seems bent toward and would be filled with compassion. I pray 1 Thesselonians 5:15, that she would find more joy in kindness than she does in torturing her brothers.

I pray that I would have the belief that that last prayer could possibly someday be answered…

For Landon I also pray 2 Timothy 2:10. I pray that even at a young age, he will know and understand how high and deep and wide and vast is the Father’s Love for him. I pray Ephesians 6:1. I pray that he will delight in obedience and that the mischief that brings that twinkle to his eye would be harnessed, but not snuffed out completely. Because the mischief makes him oh so fun.

I pray verses over my husband that are sacred and are between me and God.

I don’t always give in to the call of the morning. Though I desperately love it, sometimes the call of my bed is more tempting, more comfortable, easier and warmer. But as spring is bringing change and decision, I find myself with a bit more urgency to reaquaint with the earliest hours of the day. And to pour over my children in the quiet that comes so rarely. I don’t whisper it in their ears anymore, as I am no longer cradling them in the rocking chair. But I pray that as I release my pleas, they take off on the wings of love and settle within the hearts and spirits of the little ones I love so dearly.

When and how do you pray for your children?

Filed Under: faith, Kids, Landon, Life, Motherhood, Sloan, Tia Tagged With: '80's ballads, faith, Motherhood, prayer, praying for young children

Reflection

April 22, 2011 by Kelli

No words today. Just silence and thought.

Remembrance.

FATHER!

Pierced for our transgressions.

Bruised for our iniquities.

Thorns.

Mocking.

Caiaphas.

Pilate.

Herod.

Taunts.

Manipulate.

Whip.

Silence.

Cross.

Terrible.

Dice.

Gambling.

Darkness.

Grace.

Forgiveness.

It is Finished.

Jesus.

Filed Under: faith Tagged With: faith, Good Friday, Reflection

Big Bang

April 18, 2011 by Kelli

“Hey Mom,” he said as we walked along a path enjoying a beautiful spring day. “Did you know that the moon was created when a big meteor slammed into the Earth and bounced off of it?”

I snorted and gaped at my boy-man, sure I must have heard him wrong. “What?!”

“Yeah. The whole world was created that way. Giant meteors slamming together. BOOM!” He clapped his hands together and made the bomb sound that only a little boy can make. While he reenacted the world forming out of meteor’s slamming together, I gathered my thoughts. The absurdity of that theory is not lost on me, but to his seven year old mind it’s a really cool image so I gave him a minute to envision it.

“That’s really interesting, buddy,” I said, after a moment. “Where did you learn that?”

“Oh, I saw a video at school.”

“Huh. Well, do you really believe that’s how the world and the moon were created?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged.

“Do you remember learning about God creating the world, forming the sky and the land and the water and all the animals out of nothing?”

“Yeah, I guess,” he said, picking up a rock and tossing it into a nearby stream.

“Look at the trees,” I said and we stopped. “Look at how each one is a little bit different. Now look at the clovers in the grass.” He and I knelt down next to a patch of clovers and I ran my hand over it. “See how they have three leaves on them? But if you look long and hard enough, you might find a clover with four leaves.”

I stood him up and pointed at the moon that was already faintly showing as the evening began to fade to night. “Look at the moon. Look at the details in the moon. And look at your own hand, at the lines and the marks that are unique and can only be found on your hand. It seems kind of strange that all of these amazing details could have happened by accident, do you think? It seems to me that there had to have been a Creator to place all the finer details together.”

“Well, yeah,” he said. “But the video at school said that’s what happened!”

“Yes, I know and I’m so glad to know that you’re paying so close attention in school. I also want you to know that you don’t have to believe everything you learn.”

“But I’m supposed to trust my teachers,” he protested.

“No,” I responded. “You’re supposed to respect your teachers. You can respect them and you can respect the different ideas they are teaching you. I will tell you where Mommy and Daddy place our trust and that’s in God and in His Word. We trust that it’s true and when Genesis tells us that God created the heavens and the earth, the sun and the moon and all the creatures upon the earth, we trust that to be Truth.”

We walked in silence for a moment as he thought.

“Do I have to believe what you’re telling me?” he asked.

“No,” I replied. “You have to decide on your own what you believe to be true. I can’t tell you what to believe – I can only tell you what I believe and I believe God’s Word to be True.”

“Well how do I know what to believe?”

“Prayer. And knowing what the Bible says about Science. God is the creator of Science and there is a lot we can learn from His Creation. But it’s always important to weigh what you learn about Science against God’s Word.”

He sighed and kicked a rock with his toe. “Okay,” he mumbled, clearly feeling conflicted until…

“Wow! Look at this awesome rock!” He picked up a shiny rock and held it in his hands like a treasure. He looked at me and grinned, the evening sun dancing across his smattering of freckles. And just like that, he was a kid again.

This was a conversation I had with Sloan last week. It’s not meant to start a bashing session against the public school and OMG what are they teaching our kids?! Admittedly I was a little upset when I first heard what he learned, but after thinking about it I realized I shouldn’t be surprised. I knew they wouldn’t be teaching my child Creationism. That’s my job. And I’m glad that, at a young age, he has been exposed to the idea that there are different schools of thought on how the Earth was created.

Vigilance is key when raising kids, whether they go to public school, private school or you teach them in your living room. We must vigilantly teach our children how to weigh academia against Truth. While it wouldn’t have been my first choice for him to learn a modified version of the Big Bang Theory at such a young age, I am glad that we had the conversation that we had. (Seriously, a meteor bounced off the Earth and that’s how the moon was formed? I’ve never even heard of that before! 🙂 )

How are you teaching your children to defend Truth in a world that is fighting against it?

Filed Under: faith, Kids, School, Sloan Tagged With: Big Bang Theory, faith, Faith vs. Science, Kids

Passion

March 31, 2011 by Kelli

Passion. It’s a word that invokes emotion, excitement, joy, need, soul moving desire. Passion.

Last night I was in a rehearsal where we sang the song My Passion by Travis Cottrell. Here are the lyrics:

You alone are my passion forever.
Song of my soul,
Desire of my heart.
You alone are my passion, my treasure.
I love You for all that you are.

To the ends of the earth I will follow.
There’s nothing that I will not do.
You alone are my reason for living;
Jesus my passion is You.
Jesus my passion is You.

My Life.
My Love.
My God.
You are my Life.
My Love.
My God.

Everything I do
Everything I have
Every breath I breathe
Everything I do is all for You.

The lyrics to this song kind of took my breath away. It’s not just because they’re beautiful, especially paired with the melody, but because they are simplistically deep. I found this to be a difficult song to sing.

Is He alone my passion and my treasure? Will I follow Him to the ends of the earth? What if that requires walking through heartache? Can I sing this song and really mean it?

Our wise choir director addressed this last night. “It’s not possible to always sing this song and mean every word,” he said. “But we can sing it and genuinely want to mean it.” There is truth in that. Right now, I don’t think I’m being honest if I say to the Lord, You alone are my passion. It’s the alone part that gets me.

But I want that to be true of my heart and spirit and I believe that when desire and willingness meet, passion can spring forth.

I desire to be able to fully and unabashedly sing that song without an ounce of shame. I desire to approach the Holy of Holies, beneathe the Veil of Grace, and sing Everything I do, Everything I have, Every Breath I breathe, Everything I do is for You.

My desire is that Passion would overcome flesh.

Filed Under: faith Tagged With: faith, My Passion, thoughts, Travis Cottrell